Only In A Dream
by peddlergirl
Summary: Before he had taken me, his vulnerability would have awakened my hunger, my urge to feed. He was desperate, in pain, and drowning in his need to escape his brother's death. But in the depths of the night we were suddenly more than just hunter and djinn. He wasn't simply my captor and for the first time I wanted to comfort someone. Not just someone, but him.


I eased down at his side, watching his chest rise and fall with even breaths as he slept. I tentatively reached out and ran my fingers through his hair soothingly, wishing that I could erase the pain that become so familiar to him that it had permanently creased the corners of his eyes. I had to content myself with the fact that the dreams I provided allowed him to sleep peacefully, something he had needed long before he had captured me.

Those first few weeks had felt endless. He had kept me chained with warded cuffs in the endless string of motel rooms while he hunted, barely stopping to eat or sleep—if he did at all-before heading back out again. The frustration and despair that he barely hid beneath the surface only continued to escalate each day as he pushed closer to his breaking point, my presence only seeming to aggravate him further. But even as the days passed, he continued to gather me up and take me with him as he moved from town to town. I had nowhere in particular to go and no one to go back to, and this odd hunter confused me. Sometimes it only took my steady gaze to set him off, sending him into a rant about how he hadn't decided what to do with me yet, that I should thank my lucky fucking star that I was still alive. He carted me along like so much baggage but there were times late at night that I could feel him staring at me as if I held the key to all of the things that haunted him in the darkness. And then _that_ night had happened. The night that had shown me the depth of his agony and just what the loss of his brother had done to him. The night I realized just how deeply he needed what only I could give him.

That night had woven its threads around us both, creating an inexplicable and unwanted connection. It was well past midnight when he stumbled back into the room drunkenly, his hands thrown wide to steady the doorframe. His bloodshot gaze immediately had snapped to mine and a flicker of something had passed between us. But he'd ignored it, quickly looking away before staggering to the ever-present duffle in the corner and rifling through the clinking bottles carelessly until he found the one he was after. I tensed, keeping a wary eye on him as he settled on the edge of the sagging mattress and downed half the contents in one deep chug, barely seeming to notice how rapidly it disappeared. I noticed then that his hands were torn up, the knuckles bloody and bruised and on closer inspection in the dim light leaking in from the parking lot, the rest of him wasn't faring much better. Given the cuts and bruises on his face, he either had gone looking for a fight or whoever he had hustled the night before had caught up with him. And judging by how mindlessly he downed the liquor, it was quite possibly both.

The bottle had clattered to the floor listlessly as he collapsed on the bed facing away from me without ever speaking a word. I had watched him warily for several moments but he hadn't moved a muscle and soon soft snores filled the room. I settled back down into my space in the corner and rested my head against the wall, staring sightlessly at the ceiling as I wondered what could drive such a strong man to his limits.

Barely ten minutes had passed before he suddenly jolted awake with a heart-rending cry. It was little more than a broken moan, not so much words as a cry of soul deep despair that overwhelmed the room and left nothing but shadows in its wake. Whatever lurked in his subconscious had left him gasping for breath and covered in sweat. The gaze he turned to me was helplessly gutted and I could no longer steel my heart against him. It shattered at his brokenness and the rasping words he spoke next only further sealed my fate. "He's gone. No matter what I do or how hard I try—" He choked on the confession, one I was only hearing because the brutality of the nightmare had shattered his defenses. "Every time I close my eyes he _dies_." Not even the depth of the night could mask the stark regret that consumed him. "I should have saved him. I was _meant to save him_." His breathing faltered and I saw the low light catch the single tear that he would never allow to fall in the light of day.

I slowly got to my feet, easing my way closer to him, bridging that ever present distance between us. He was hunched on the bed as if curling around the pain that lived inside him, his large frame shrunken to a huddled form. I stopped barely a step away from him, silently waiting until his ravaged gaze lifted once again to mine. I held a cuffed hand out to him and the silence grew brittle. We were balanced on a knife edge, he and I, and I could see the agony in his eyes. There was a raging storm inside him that he strained to keep hidden and every instinct drew me toward him to calm it. It was strange, this urge to comfort. Before he had taken me, his vulnerability would have awakened my hunger, my urge to feed. He was desperate, in pain, and drowning in his need for escape. But in the depths of the night we were suddenly more than just hunter and djinn. He wasn't simply my captor and for the first time I _wanted_ to comfort someone. Not just someone, but _him._

He didn't take my hand or outwardly acknowledge my offer of solace. But he stilled, every muscle in his hunched form suddenly bracing for my touch. He could have pushed me away or moved out of reach but he didn't, and I saw his acceptance for what it was. _This_ was why he had taken me. _This_ was why he had kept me all these weeks. He knew the peace that only I could provide and this whole time he'd been fighting whether to take it or not. That first touch of my fingers cradling his face created the bright blue threads that bound us and those threads strengthened with every dream that had followed, every night he trusted me to push away the nightmares.

Getting lost in my memories of that first shared night broke my concentration on the present. His eyes shot open beside me and the pained creases around his eyes deepened as he processed his return to reality. His hand flew out and gripped my wrist tight, halting my soothing strokes in his hair. "Stop that," he growled, just as he did every time.

I nodded silently, knowing he hated to hear me speak. Even all these weeks later, he didn't appreciate any reminders that I was intelligent, or that I had thoughts and emotions and memories of a time before he had taken me. Losing his brother had damaged him in ways I could barely comprehend, and I realized he couldn't risk seeing me as a person. I was simply a monster he should have killed but had chosen to spare, one that could help him rest and could provide a small amount of peace - something that had become impossible without me the longer the days stretched without his brother. He still refused to call me by name, simply referring to me as Djinn.

He swung his legs over the side of the lumpy motel mattress, dropping his head to rest in his hands with a bleary look at the clock. "What the fuck sort of dream was that," he grunted. "There was fishing. And _picnics_."

I stilled. His reactions to the dreams could sometimes be … intense. I couldn't control all the elements of his dreams, and truly only had complete control over his entry into the dream world. It was a delicate process and I was far too young a djinn to have mastered much more than the bending of mind and soul and perception that created the doorway to the dream world. I was gradually expanding my ability to dig into his psyche to draw out elements of his deepest desires. He had buried his brother so deep that I had yet to find him. If I was a fully developed Djinn and able to use my powers at full potential, I would be able to create such a vibrant dream that he would never know it wasn't reality if I didn't want him to, and he would live his 'life' there until his body wasted away in the real world. Given enough time, I could create a world where he had his brother back and this reality would be nothing but a fading nightmare. But I wasn't strong enough yet. Even the small amount of growth I had managed was a miracle because of the warding he had placed on the cuffs I constantly wore. I knew they would never come off unless he released me or chose to finish this tentative truce between us. I was just glad our connection had grown to where he trusted me enough to remove the chain that linked them together.

"Tell me about it," I requested softly as the last of the blue light faded from my hands and the tattoos that swirled all over my body.

He rubbed a hand over his face and got to his feet. "It doesn't matter. It was just a dream." He gathered his gun and leather jacket before he made his way to the door. It swung open and he paused, glancing back at me. He started to say something but caught himself, his jaw firming as his gaze cut away. He turned and walked out the door, shutting it firmly behind him. Just like that, the sky went dark as my lucky star left me behind once more. I settled back on my heels, renewing my determination that I would find a way to give him back his brother, even if it was only in a dream.

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Thank you so much for reading! This was a little one shot birthed out of another fic I am working on and I knew if I didn't get it out of my head it would morph and grow into a whole new fic, yet another one I don't have time to explore! So a one shot it shall stay. :) Hope you enjoyed it and I would love to hear how you felt about it!


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